Fearless
by threeredcardinals
Summary: She was forgotten sometimes. Left in the dust. Her fearlessness was her claim to fame, until she lost that, too.


**I almost didn't post this story, but I then thought of the lack of stories concerning Padma...and decided eh, what the heck. (:**

Padma wasn't scared of much. She had never been frightened of bugs, loved snakes, and heights gave her rush. She loved to horseback ride at her grandparent's farm, taking her horse and riding as fast and far as she could. Too often she found herself begging her sister to go with her—but Parvati would refuse, shying from the large horses and the great stretch of unknown just waiting to be discovered.

Padma had never had nightmares, either—that is, until her first year of school. Hogwarts opened up not just a window, but buildings full of doorways and staircases of knowledge and new ideas and innovations, just waiting to be tested and molded into something new and brilliant. But, of course, along with the good things came the bad ones.

More than once she'd hear her parents talking in hushed tones after dinner, hunched over an issue of the _Daily__Prophet_and whispering over an article concerning Death Eater sightings or the stirrings of Dark magic in different parts of the world. As the late night conversations grew more frequent and more serious, Padma being asking questions—who are these people? What are they doing? She stole newspapers from the waste basket and eavesdropped on conversations in the Great Hall, slowly piecing together a terrible, twisted story of a power-hungry madman and his band of brutal followers. Her parents had told her of them before, and of Harry, of course, but she soon learned she had received the abridged version—nothing could prepare her for the horrible stories she read in the history books she read under her blankets at night, the ones she snuck out of the library.

And so Padma threw herself into her studies and schoolwork, determined to do well and, once graduated, do something about the horrid things she had read, to make sure it would never happen again. Padma tried to tell Parvati everything she discovered, but, like before, Parvati ignored her—told her it was silly. The connection between her and her twin was weakening, Padma knew that, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing but decide to attempt to protect her sister from this evils as well.

It wasn't until her third year that Padma realized what she was truly afraid of—it was during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class when Professor Lupin showed them the boggart. He explained that it assumed the shape of whatever each individual feared the most, and for once in her life, Padma was clueless. What was she afraid of? Despite the terrible things she had read about, she wasn't afraid of them—just intrigued and determined to put an end to it. Glancing at her peers, she could name what each was most terrified of—Luna, despite her bravery, despised, of all things, kitchen knives. Patrick feared beetles, and Miriam hated mummies. But what of Padma?

She thought as hard as she could while the queue to the boggart decreased, and, with each step closer, she grew more puzzled. What would the creature turn into? When it was finally her turn, Padma stepped forward, more curious than afraid.

The boggart twitched, then began rapidly assuming the shapes of random objects—first an eyeball, then a ragged, wizened old witch, a dementor, a mouse—until it finally stopped, and standing before Padma was her own sister: Parvati.

Padma's initial reaction was surprise, then disbelief. She wasn't afraid of Parvati! Despite herself, Padma took a step towards her sister's duplicate. Parvati looked furious, her forehead crinkled and her mouth turned down into a displeased frown. She was obviously saying something rather angrily, but Padma couldn't hear anything.

"I'm sorry, Parvati, but I can't hear you—Parvati, wait—" For her sister had begun walking away. Suddenly, the boggart-Parvati froze, and, in an instant, fell to the ground. A hand went to her throat as her body started convulsing, and, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Paravti's eyes were open but dull, reflecting the cavernous swoops of the ceiling, and in that instant, Padma knew her sister was dead. Shaking her head to fight off the tears and a powerful headache, Padma raised her wand. No, it wasn't her sister—it was a boggart.

"Riddikulus!" The spell was foreign in her mouth, and with a crack, the "body" disappeared, the next person in line now occupying the boggart's attentions. Padma stumbled away to the back of the line, reeling slightly from what she had just saw.

~x~

It wasn't until she awoke in a cold sweat that night did she realize how badly the boggart had affected her. Repeating dream sequences forced her to live the deaths of Parvati, her parents, and all of her friends over and over—Padma reaching out, but unable to help, unable to intervene.

Padma, who so often felt forgotten in the shadow of her Gryffindor sister, could no longer cling to her one claim to superiority—her fearlessness. Because she had finally discovered what she was most frightened of—not saying good-bye.

~x~

It was dark, the night sky splattered in stars and blood, the crumbling walls of the school groaning. Dodging miscellaneous spells, Padma felt her arm yanked from her side as Parvati grabbed it, pulling her down a side hallway.

"Parvati, what are you—"

"Shh." Pressing a finger to her lips, Parvati peered around the corner to a large hall. Further down, the sounds of fighting were growing louder, screams splitting the nighttime air.

"You _cannot_go down there, it's too dangerous—"

Parvati turned to her sister, her lips pursed. "Are you _scared_, Padma?"

Padma glowered. "Of course not."

"Then why don't you want—"

"To go down there? I don't understand why you _would_want to!"

"Well, I'm not just going to stand here and do nothing! There's a war, Padma. A _war_."

"You think I don't know that?" Padma snapped, watching as Parvati leaned out farther into the hall, taking a cautious step forward. "Parvati!"

It happened so quickly, too quickly for Padma to move, to scream. The stray spell collided with Parvati's chest, knocking her to the floor. In a horrible rush of deja vu, Padma watched, horrified, as Paravti crumpled, her eyes glassy.

"P-Parv—"

Padma sank to her knees on the ground next to her sister. "Parvati?" The word was a whisper. Padma knew. And Padma cried. Cried for her sister's stupid Gryffindor courage, cried for the fact that their last words were angry, but most of all, cried because she hadn't even got to say good-bye.


End file.
